MY HEART IS slamming around in my chest like an eight-ounce pinball. I can hardly breathe and memories assail me like demons in the air, running at me from every direction. I tell myself over and over that it’s in the past, that he can’t hurt me anymore. I tell myself that Cole is different. But his words…they resonated within me. Like a scream reverberating through an empty cave. Through the hallway of time.
I don’t bother dressing. I simply roll onto my side and curl up into the tightest ball that my body will make. I close my eyes and concentrate on the heat of the flames. I picture it like comforting hands, reaching out to gently touch my face. I picture them warming me, chasing away the cold, soothing away my fears. And the darkness. And the demons.
I don’t know how long I stay this way before I finally doze off. An hour. Three. A week. A lifetime.
When I wake, it’s with a start. I’m flat on my stomach, face turned toward the dwindling fire, and my pulse is pounding. As though someone spoke the future right into my ear to rouse me, I have the crystal clear realization that I just let something amazing slip through my fingers. All because of something awful in my past. How long can I let Ryan haunt me? How long can I let him decide my future? How long can I be a prisoner of yesterday? And how many tomorrows will suffer because of it?
I think of my daughter, sleeping soundly in her bed. I think of her concerns of late, her fear that my happiness is her burden to bear. No child should feel that responsibility. And certainly not a child who already has the weight of bad memories pressing on her thin shoulders.
Cole could be good. Good for me, good for us. I feel it. All the way down to my bones. He’s broken, yes, but not twisted-broken. Not like Ryan was. Not even broken like I am. He’s the good kind of broken, the honorable kind of broken.
And I pushed him away because of fear. Because I got out of the moment and into my own head. I let myself fall into the darkness, into the chasm where all the monsters lurk. And they chased away my one shot at normal, at happy. At love, even. Maybe. At the very least the hope of love.
????
The demons from my past haunt me. Last night, they ran rampant through my dreams, turning them into nightmares that left me in a puddle of my own cold sweat. They whispered to me from every corner today. They’ve done that for years. They tell me that I’m not normal, that I’m damaged goods and that no one will ever want me. And, for the most part, I’ve believed them.
Until now.
Until Cole.
All day, I’ve watched for him. I saw him inside the house across the street earlier and I’ve watched for him to come out. He never did. At dark, the lights came on inside and they’re still on now.
I move into the living room, away from the window. Away from Cole. But I don’t leave him behind. I bring him with me. I dwell on him as I sit, staring into the fire that I’ve nursed since he built it. Somehow I’ve equated it to what burns between us, as though if I let the fire die, so will the attraction. The possibility. The hope.
The hope of Cole.
I’ve never been so drawn to another person. Never wanted someone this way. And I do. God, how I want him! Before he uttered those words, before he caged me with his arms, I was lost. Ecstatically, euphorically lost.
But I let a monster ruin it. A monster that now lives only within the confines of my head because he’s hundreds of miles away. All I’ve ever wanted was to be normal, to be happy and healthy and whole, and part of me believes that I could be all of that with Cole. That he’s the one who’s destined to drag me out of the past. Only I don’t think he’s the type to drag me if I resist. He stopped the instant he felt me resisting him last night. And it hurt him. I could see it. He was so kind about it, but I could see the confusion and the hurt.
What if that completely ruined it? What if he doesn’t want to try again? What if now he thinks I’m damaged goods and wants nothing to do with me? What if I don’t get another chance? What if I’ve looked into his beautifully intense blue eyes for the last time?
I envision my life ahead as more of the same. I love my daughter and I live for her, but this thing with Cole…feeling like a part of something else, one half of a whole…I never realized it could be this way. That I could feel this way.
But that could be over. I could go the rest of my life and never feel this way again. Never get butterflies of excitement. Never melt with a look. Never burn with a touch. Never crave with such intensity. All because I was afraid. I let someone who can’t hurt me anymore hurt me. And he’ll keep on hurting me if I don’t get over this.
Now.
I look around me, at the way the fingers of light stretch into the dark shadows around the room. Or is it the dark shadows encroaching on the light? It mimics the power struggle within me. My past–black nothingness, lurking, stalking, mocking. My present–warm, golden, promising. Alive.
Without even stopping to think about what I’m doing, I shove my feet into boots, creep in to check on Emmy and then head straight for the door. I don’t even grab a coat. I just lurch out into the cold, snowy night and head for the street.
I clomp through the drifts, oblivious to the wind whipping at my hair and the flakes wetting my cheeks. I have one thing in mind–Cole. I need him. I need him to come back. I need him to make me forget rather than remember. I need him to replace the ugly with the beautiful.
I march up the steps and knock on the door. He might answer. He might not. But I’m not leaving until he does. Because I need him. And I think he needs me.
I jump when the door jerks open. I wasn’t expecting such a rapid response.
For a few seconds, I’m struck speechless by the heat in his wildly blue eyes. They’re the most amazing color, and the way they hold me…the way he looks at me…it’s like he’s touching me. Through and through.
Cole shakes his hair back. He has great hair. Sexy hair. The longish locks lay like a hairdresser fixed them and then messed them up just the right amount. The bangs hang nearly to his chin, effortlessly framing his gorgeous face.
My heart stutters in my chest when I take in his naked torso and his low-slung jeans. Rather than taking the risk of saying something stupid, I just bend and grab the boots by the door and hand them to Cole. I hold my breath as I wait. What if he’s not interested since I freaked out? What if he starts asking me questions that I have no answers for? What if this is all a huge mistake?